A/N:
-So I wrote this while listening to Young God by Halsey on repeat. I hope this can stand alone too, but just throwing that out there. In fact, can any of you (who hasn't heard the song yet) read this, and PM me and tell me if it can stand alone? Thanks!
-The first part takes place in like a post-HBP, pre-DH setting, and the second part is set during DH.
-Starts in Hermione's POV, but has an excerpt of Ron's POV.
-I feel like this got slightly AU, but not so much that it's implausible.
*T for minor nsfw and language
Anyways, we'll chitchat later, for now :
All rights got to J.K Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.
I tossed and turned on the bed in Ginny's room, unable to sleep. Not surprising, considering the fact that the only thing I was sure of about my life now was that in a few weeks' time, I would be going on an expedition with an eighty-per cent chance of death. Cheerful.
Finally, I got out and made my way to Ron's room as quietly as possible. No need to knock, no need to ask; it was unspoken, but there: I'll be there for you if you need me. Unsurprisingly, he was awake.
"Hey," he says, sitting up slightly.
"Hi," I reply as I moved to sit down next to him.
"We still have some time. Calm down. We'll be alright," he was obviously trying to help, but his voice was flat. Empty words. That's all they were – we both knew it, there was no need to even try to disguise it.
We don't talk. We don't have to – don't want to is more like it, to be honest, though. After a while, in total Ron fashion, he chuckles and says, "Y'know, they're probably suspecting something."
I think about how much we've changed in the past year. A while back, I would've blushed and pulled away from him – a while back he wouldn't have even said it. We hadn't actually gotten past this ... phase yet, but whenever anything like this happened, we didn't go completely red and want to die on the spot. Now, we just smile.
"Probably thinking of nicknames we have for each other," I say in response, changing my voice a bit to match those love-struck airheads in movies. "Darling."
There's a pause, and then he says, "Baby girl," in a mock seductive voice, and we both laugh. A while after that, he adds, "You know we're gonna be legends."
"Meaning?" I ask. I know what he means, of course, I just want to hear how he feels about it.
"Y'know, they'll make slogans saying things like I'm the king, and you're the queen, and stuff like that," he answers. "If we get through this, of course."
"When we get through it," I say. The determination in my voice must have surprised him – it surprised me. But then I add, "We will. We don't know what we're doing now, yes, but we will. Somehow." And then the eyebrow-quirk fades, and he knows I mean it.
"It'll be heaven," he mutters, sarcastic as usual.
"Well, then, we'll stumble through heaven. Even if there's a light at the end – "
"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes." He interrupts. "I know you wanna go to heaven," he adds – and this time I know he means 'the after-life' – "but you're human tonight." Tonight, tomorrow, and every day, until...
"Anyways. Calm down for a second, " he says, leaning back onto the bed. "For now let's just worry about what we'll have for breakfast."
"Ron, we need to plan at least a little," I say, frowning a bit.
"Plan all you want, Hermione, when the time comes it'll be 'jab and run, jab and run!" And we laugh.
It might not be the best tactic, but it's one we – one I need: laugh. Distract yourself.
We sit in silence for a while. Trying not to think of the fact that in a little while we'll be literally fighting to stay alive, and we'll be running, running, running.
I'd never liked jewelry.
But that locket was worse than any itchy bracelet I'd ever worn. It made me relive every horrible thought I'd ever had, worst fears, feelings of inadequacy. When I wore it I felt like I was twelve again, locked in the bathroom with that troll. Except then, Ron was there too – completely there. Now, when he was wearing that damned locket he wasn't himself, and when he wasn't wearing it, he was trying to shake off the feeling of wearing it.
He was trying to hold on though. He was trying to be the same Ron, but his humour was stained with arrogance. His caring nature was fading into obnoxiousness. Also he was occasionally ... well, there's no good way to say it, a jerk. Sometimes, when he neither of us had on that monstrosity, in the dead of night, when he maybe realized how horrible he'd been, he came to me and tried to fix things. Like now.
He says, "Baby girl," with a small smile which I return. No matter how hard we try, we won't be the same as we were those nights ago in his room. At least not just now.
"Listen ... I don't mean to be so ... sharp all the time, when I'm talking to you I mean. It's just that ... that thing ..." he broke off. "I feel horrible, and it's given me so many ... edges , like –"
I cut him off. "It's okay. I won't say I know how you feel, but I get it. Just try and get some sleep," I say and kiss his cheek.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll try," he says as he lies down while simultaneously leaning in slightly. I think about what he said.
Okay. I guess I'll have to make sure I don't get cut on his edges.
-x-x-x-
I shook my head, as if that would clear anything up. I'd just taken off that damned locket. Everything I thought was nothing new, I'd had those thoughts many, many times, but that ... monstrosity took away any rational thinking too. It also changed me. But, a while back, I was talking to Hermione and she said ... she told me not to listen to it. She knew. Somehow, she bloody knew, and I was so grateful, because I needed her to at least try and help me, and since I was crap at actually explaining things, it was a damn good thing too. Merlin, if it wasn't for her, by now I would've given up. And not only that, but I've been in a shit mood ever since we came to this goddamned forest, and I've also been quite a shit person. Hey, judge me all you want, but it's cold, we're eating trash that only passes as food because the cavemen said so, and we sort of have the threat of imminent death hanging over us, so if that doesn't push you over the edge, you deserve a fucking medal.
But I fucked up, as usual. I didn't mean to, but it wasn't even an accident. Weird, I know, but I knew exactly what I was doing, and did it anyway. I didn't even feel like I did something wrong, until now, when I think about it. It was that thing.
So she comes up to me and says, "Hey."
And then I say, "Hey."
And then she says, "I know what it's telling you. But don't listen. It's messing with you, you aren't stupid, or any of that other stuff." Okay, that really didn't help, I still thought that, but I smiled, because at least she was trying, which is bloody more than anyone else had ever done in all my seventeen years.
"I know it's not," I answer. She was trying to make me feel better, so I should try to get better. "'Sides, doesn't know a bloody thing." She looked hopeful at that; that was good. "I'm the king of everything, aren't I?"
So words actually do work. I think I was getting over it, that had actually made me feel a bit better.
I think I saw something change in her face, but I must've imagined it.
At least that's what I thought. Now that I took it off, I realise how horrible that was, and that she must've seen it too. I want to apologise, but how do I do that? I don't even exactly what went on, what do I say? I could try to pass it off as a 'Weasley is our King' reference, but then...what would I be apologizing for? There was about 20 different reasons that wouldn't work.
Bloody fuck, it's like even my tongue is a weapon.
-x-x-x-
It's not the comment that really scared me; it was something in his eyes. Normally if he said that, he would've simply had a glint that said 'ha ha, yeah, sure I am, whatever, can we talk about anything else?', but then he looked like, 'I really am so much better than everyone, aren't I?'
I know what you're thinking, if he normally doesn't think things like that, that's a good sign, isn't it? A little bit of progress? I would've thought so too, but he looked genuinely conceited then; if it had really been something to be proud of, he would've had that touch of down-to-earth-ness in him too. He'd never been exactly humble, whenever something good or dramatic happened to him, he'd always milked it just a bit, but he'd never tried to prove himself better than anyone, only as good as.
That bit had just been sad. But what really terrified me was the colour of his eyes.
Behind his usual sky blue was a trace of scarlet.
But honestly, that had brought along a mix of emotions.
On the one hand, it was scary, because ... well you can guess why. But on the other hand, there was so much relief, because at least he himself hadn't changed.
Could this situation get any worse?
-x-x-x-
I went to talk to him when he was wearing that thing again, because I could easily see the internal battle he was facing. It was our turn to sleep, but needless to say, we couldn't.
Who even thought sleep was possible with a horcrux around your neck? Next thing you know, someone will try to go swimming with it.
"Hey," I say, once more. The 'hey's' never end, do they?
"Hey."
"This isn't healthy. Without sleep we won't be able to focus on anything," I say.
"Well, we haven't got much choice, though, have we?" he answers. Well, I guess not.
"What do you suggest we do then?"
"I dunno," he replies. "What's your favourite colour?"
I smiled a bit. It was so easy to pretend nothing was wrong, yet so hard. "Violet. You?"
"Maroon," he says, smirking a bit.
"No, really. What is it?" I ask. Seven years of knowing each other, you'd think we'd know each other's favourite colours.
"Light Green."
"What do you do when you're bored? When there's literally nothing else to do?" I ask. "Well, what you did." I add as his eyebrow goes up.
He looks like he's going to say something, but then shakes his head. "It's dumb."
"No, come on, tell me," I insist. "You know mine is reading. It gives you an unfair advantage."
He mumbles something. It doesn't even sound like words, more like a sleepy growl.
"Sorry?"
"Sing! I like to sing, okay!" He says finally, a bit loud. "Don't judge me." quieter this time.
Logically speaking, I should be trying not laugh. Instead, I just find it endearing. I don't ask him to sing though. Because if I did, his ears would go red and he would look down in that adorable way...
On second thought...
"Can you sing something?"
He sighs. "Should've seen that coming." And then sings a bit of 'Cauldron Full of Love'.
He's not that bad, actually.
"Had enough?" He tries for annoyed, but mouth is doing that thing, where it twitches a bit, so I know he's doing it in good humour.
"For now," I say. Oh no. Oh no nonono, please don't let him say—
"Can you sing?"
Oh no.
"No. Please don't pester me. It's for your own good. I'm not being humble, or shy," I add when I see his mouth open. "I'm serious. I can't hold a tune to save my life."
Luckily, he doesn't push it, but I have a feeling he hasn't dropped it forever.
"So, what happens after this is over?" I finally say, breaking the silence. I know he knows exactly what I mean.
"I dunno," he says for the second time tonight. "Why wait?" he adds, extremely hesitantly. Catching my eye, he quickly adds, "It's okay if you don't want to, I mean, I completely get it—" and he's off, doing the rambling thing again.
"Ron. Ron—RON!" I'm nearly shouting by the time he shuts up. "I get, I mean, I want to, I just ... there's so much fear right now, like we could literally die and go to heaven any second now." Even to me it sounds extremely half-hearted, because, well, I've known him seven years now, liked him for about half that time, his stubble's grown out a bit, and like I said earlier, he was doing the rambling thing. He's thinking something around those lines too, I can tell, and his next words, accompanied by an uncharacteristic smirk and eyebrow quirk, confirm it.
"Well, then, if you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight."
We nearly kiss, but a flash of gold on his neck makes me stop him. "Wait—locket."
This seems to snap him out of it, and he leans back, further than necessary, ripping the chain off his neck.
"Sorry," he says. "It's just—don't get me wrong, I want to, but that was ... not like this."
I nod. "Yeah, that's exactly why I stopped you. Go to sleep." I add, lying down next to him.
And somehow, we did.
-x-x-x-
"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," he says, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."
"Ron," I say, but I'm quite sure he didn't hear, the rain was pouring down, and I could barely speak; I'd felt as if this would happen at some point, with the way he'd been acting. I was just scared of when.
I could barely listen to this, I tried to tune it out, but it just wouldn't work.
"We thought you knew what you were doing!" he's yelling, looking like he wants to destroy everything within reach. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"
"Ron!" I was shouting this time, but he ignores me.
"Well, sorry to let you down," Harry was talking now, his voice dangerously calm. "I've been straight with you from the start. I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in the case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux."
"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them. Nowhere effing near in other words."
"Take off the locket, Ron," I say, trying not to sound scared, but my voice betrayed me. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."
"Yeah, he would," Harry says again. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"
"Harry, we weren't," I say. Not entirely a lie, but not the whole truth either.
"Don't lie!" Ron shouts, at me this time. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on!"
"I didn't say it like that Harry, I didn't!"
"So why are you still here?" Harry asks him
"Search me."
"Go home then," He didn't even say it with any emotion. As if Ron was a dead weight.
"Yeah, maybe I will!" Ron had apparently lost his indoor voice along with his common sense, and he walked up to Harry, who did not back away. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I've-Faced-Worse Potter doesn't care what happened to her in there. Well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff."
"I was only saying she was with the others, they were with Hagrid," He sounded sincere, but Ron didn't buy it.
"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured,' did you hear that?"
"Yeah I—"
"Not bothered what it meant, though?" He yells.
"Ron!" I yell, forcing my way between them. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about; think, Ron, Bill's already scarred, plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant—"
"Oh, you're sure, are you? Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way."
"My parents are dead!" Harry yelled; it probably wasn't 'fresh pain searing through him', but hearing your best friend not only say it, but try to hold it against you...must have struck a nerve.
"And mine could be going the same way!" yelled Ron.
"Then GO! Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"
Ron moved, but before anything else could happen, I cast a shield charm between them. This wasn't going to end well, but death was a bit extreme.
"Leave the Horcrux," Harry says, and he throws it off. And then he turns to me, and he says:
"What are you doing?"
I blink. "What do you mean?"
"Are you staying, or what?"
"I—" how could he...? "Yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help."
"I get it," he nods. "You choose him."
He walked off, and I tried going after him, but there was my shield charm. By the time it was gone, he had ... gone.
-x-x-x-
I thought back to a few of our older conversations, back at Grimmauld Place. The first night. He'd asked, "Do you feel like a young god?" and when asked what he meant, he'd said that "Feels like we're invincible, you know? I mean, yeah, there's a fifty percent chance we'll ... y'know, but at the same time feels a lot better to know we'll die trying to fix this mess."
It's ironic, really, how trying to fix everything left us more broken than we ever were.
Hey! So , a few notes:
-Sorry if I messed up the dialogue in the horcrux/leaving scene, I don't actually have the book on me right now, and was using citations.
-feedback is greatly appreciated, as I was a bit (read: a lot) nervous about posting this as I tried something kinda new to me. Eh, first time for everything.
Till next time
~Fooves